Don't Leave Me
by OneLetteredWonder
Summary: The pain in Ludwig's chest heightens. Never has he seen Gilbert so complacent, so accepting of something so awful. He expected his brother to fight, to yell, even maybe to run though the stubborn nation would never truly back down from a fight. He thought his brother would do something, anything other than just hang his head in pain, as his nation title is ripped away from him.


Ludwig has never seen Gilbert cry. It was just a simple fact to him that his older brother never let his true emotions flourish like some others did. Maybe once or twice he's caught his brother letting out the odd tear or two, but it had always been quickly masked by a wild smirk and a wicked laugh. Sometimes the tears would come when Gilbert laughed too hard over something that probably hadn't been that funny. Nothing more than a simple hiccup. None of that seemed to matter now.

Ludwig stands ramrod straight on the meeting floor. Those Allies stand around him on the judgment side. He flickers his eyes to them, well, eye. The bandage around his head covering up his wounded eye itches, but he refuses to move. He tries to muster a glare to the Allies, but he is too tired to do so. England and France look smug, the bastards, as if they are enjoying the pain he is being put through, his brother is being put through. China, America, and another nation near him, one he can't quite remember the name of, are twitching, grimaces on their faces. Russia just smiles.

The words wash over him. He watches his brother now. Gilbert, like the soldier he is, and the soldier he trained Ludwig to be, stands tall. His face unreadable. His rulers stand beside him, just like Ludwig has his. Gilbert's rulers are tense, their hands balled into fists at their sides. There is nothing they can do. The decision has already been made.

The announcement happens. Ludwig can feel the pain in his chest. Gilbert lets his posture drop, his shoulders sink and he faces the floor. The pain in Ludwig's chest heightens. Never has he seen Gilbert so complacent, so accepting of something so awful. He expected his brother to fight, to yell, even maybe to run though the stubborn nation would never truly back down from a fight. He thought his brother would do something, anything other than just hang his head in pain, as his nation title is ripped away from him.

A hammer is swung, a loud crack is heard, and the people start to shift. It's Ludwig's turn for judgment and his "punishment" to be heard. Gilbert's leaders slink away as Ludwig's move forward. Gilbert doesn't move. Ludwig takes a step forward. He is out of his element. He has no idea how to deal with a depressed Gilbert. He reaches out a hand to his shoulder when the scream is heard.

Gilbert drops to his knees and wails. His nails are digging into his scalp as he screams out. Ludwig watches in horror as his brother comes undone. Gilbert shakes from his spot on the floor, raking his nails over his body. Tears are pouring from him as he sobs. He puts his head to the floor and bangs a fist onto the ground. Ludwig stands above him frozen. His breathing is irregular as he watches his brother, his protector, bawl and scream. Ludwig closes his eyes tight to fight off tears of his own.

The nation that stood next to America comes over, disregarding rules and regulation to help Gilbert up. Ludwig covers his mouth with his hand as Gilbert fights off the help. He pushes away at the hands. Screaming and flailing when he is forced from his spot. The other nation scowls and hoists him to his feet and drags him to the back. Ludwig blinks hard as the name comes back to him. Canada. The ruthless nation, is now helping him. He feels an odd sense of gratitude.

He takes the last few steps forward. Gilbert's yells can still be heard from behind him. He doesn't know what yet awaits him. If England's and France's smirks are anything to go by, it's going to be painful. He takes a deep breath and holds his head up high, just like Gilbert always taught him to do. _You are a strong nation, and strong nations have their heads high_. His brother's words come back to him. He wants to honor that advice. He keeps his face blank, pushing down the slight hint of gratification that England scowls at his refusal to crumple.

Another cry joins Gilbert but he refuses to look. He closes his eyes tight when Feliciano begs aloud for them to spare Ludwig. He knows the small nation can't do anything in this situation. He opens his eyes once again once the Italian's pleads are silenced by American shushing. He takes a deep breath.

England's leader announces the punishment. He clenches his jaw tight as the words register in his mind. His capital, his heart, is to be broken up into pieces and distributed between the Allies, so they can keep an eye on him, and stop him from further producing an army. He bites his tongue. This is more than to stop him from building an army, he knows. It'll also stop him from being able to move forward. With his capital split, everything will be in chaos, and he'll have trouble getting out of the post war slump. His leaders realize this too as they grow rigid next to him. His heart feels heavy.

The hammer falls and the decision is final. He turns away from them now. He doesn't want to see their horrible faces any longer. He just wants to know if Gilbert is okay. He stops when his name is called. He slowly raises his head around to see America coming up to him. The young nation rubs at his arms uncomfortably. He can barely register as America offers aid, money and food and supplies to help rebuild. He explains his leaders will send help. Ludwig can't for the life of him see why this naïve _superpower_ would want to help him. He nods though, knowing any help would be beneficial.

America gives a soft smile and reaches out to touch his arm. Ludwig doesn't move. America stops halfway and pulls back, realizing the awkwardness. He waves then and walks away, walks back to those he calls allies. Ludwig starts back on his search for Gilbert. He follows the sound of sniffling. Gilbert is outside the main meeting room, sitting down and leaning against the wall. Ludwig approaches. Gilbert glances up to him. Ludwig sighs as his brother wobbles to his feet. He can feel the pain in his chest as he takes in his brother's appearance. Gilbert's normally reddish eyes are bloodshot, his nose is rubbed raw, and the worst part to Ludwig, is that his brother is not smiling.

He grimaces. Gilbert cringes, a new wave of tears coming out of his eyes. He rubs at them. Ludwig feels his heart hurting again. Then a searing pain etches into his skin. He clutches at the new wound forming over his heart. Gilbert does the same. Clinging to his heart and wincing. When the pain lets up to a dull ache, Ludwig finds himself full of crying nation. Gilbert buries his head into Ludwig's shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his uniform. Ludwig, lets out a deep breath and holds his brother back, clinging to him just as much.

He wonders. When did Gilbert become so small? When did his brother become shorter than him? Why did the others feel the need to punish Gilbert for Ludwig's crimes? He holds Gilbert tighter to him. He can't help the feel of anger worming through him. None of this had been Gilbert's fault. His brother had told him from the beginning that this new leader was bad news. Ludwig didn't listen to him. His people felt liberated and had hope for the future. He saw the mistake of his ways when Gilbert's lands were invaded. He saw the mistake of his ways when he heard the screams of people dying by the masses. Oh what had he done? Why didn't anyone tell him what was going on in Poland? Why did they blame Gilbert for it?

Gilbert is ripped from his arms. The loud nation lets out a surprised yelp. Russia has a grip on his arm, his ever present smile on his face. Gilbert glares at him, pulling away from the tight hold on him. Ludwig eyes widen in disbelief as Russia explains. Gilbert's lands are now a part of Germany, the part that is now under Russian control. Gilbert snarls something and pulls back once more. He locks eyes with Ludwig and his expression melts. Ludwig can only watch as his brother glances between them. He stops struggling.

A yell is heard. Ludwig gives a single glance to America running up to them. He locks his eyes back on Gilbert. His brother now has a look of determination. America and Russia bicker. Ludwig watches the young nation glare. He has only seen that face one before, when America first joined the war, and wrecked havoc on them. Now that face, that person, that country defends him. Russia simply smiles, though it grows darker the more America talks. Suddenly Gilbert grabs Russia by the arm and pulls him away from the fight.

Ludwig reaches out a hand to him and calls his name. Gilbert pauses, Russia stops next to him as Gilbert has not let go of his arm. Gilbert turns to face him. Ludwig's breath catches in his throat. Gilbert's look is cold, commanding, as it had been when Ludwig had still just been little with the body of a ten year old. He realizes what Gilbert is doing, realizes that his brother figured it out before he did. Gilbert suddenly smirks, but it does nothing to help the pain in Ludwig's chest. The smirk isn't Gilbert. It isn't as wide as it should be, as snarky as it should be. It's pained. Gilbert flashes a peace sign and continues to walk with his new controller. Ludwig lets his hand drop. How could he let Gilbert do that? How could he let Gilbert take his place in Russia's home? How could he let his brother make yet another sacrifice for him?

Ludwig falls to his knees. He lets out a huff of breath when he can no longer see Gilbert's form in front of him. The searing pain scarring his chest is nothing to the pain he feels now in his heart. Gilbert has always been there for him. From the moment he came to exist. Gilbert always protected him, taught him how to fight, how to train, and how to be as a country. Gilbert always stayed up late with him, working on mechanics or just to annoy him from paperwork. Always helped him with the paperwork when Ludwig did not know what to do. Stayed up with him when he was little, playing his flute to get him to go back to sleep. Always.

Ludwig feels a tear slip down his cheek. Gilbert is no longer a phone call away. He feels as if his right side has been ripped from him. Gilbert is not _there_. He lowers his head. Gilbert. He grits his teeth. How could he let this happen to his brother? He had seen Gilbert before the end of the war. His smirk hadn't been full then either. He joined Ludwig in the fight only because Ludwig needed him too. His body had been beaten more, his health suffering more. Now he is taking the worst of the punishment. Now, Gilbert doesn't even exist.

Ludwig closes his eyes tight. He hobbles to his feet and holds his head high. He brings a hand up to rub away the tear that slipped through. No. He will be strong for Gilbert. He will keep his people happy. He will protect them the way Gilbert showed him how. He feels another pang in his chest as he remembers that everything he knows how to do, is because Gilbert took his time to teach him how. He shakes his head. He will be the protection now. He will keep his people safe. He will keep Gilbert's people safe.

He regards America coldly. The young nation takes a step back. Ludwig sighs and holds out his hand. America glances between the limb and him. A small smile breaks across his face and he shakes Ludwig's hand. Ludwig asks him to help his people rebuild. He feels a small sense of appreciation when America tells him that he would have done so anyway. Ludwig gives one last look to the doorway where Gilbert had made his exit. _I'll protect you Luddy_. Ludwig sighs. Now it's his turn to be the protector.

* * *

Protect he does. He works to the bone for years. Rebuilding his lands and working and working and working to pay back the debt he owes the other countries. He's held up by America, and his brother Canada, both of them sending in troops, not to fight, but to help the civilians and lend a hand in the rebuilding process. He lets the anger of war go, instead feeling gratitude for them, for sucking up their bitterness and helping him. It makes it easier on him. Yet, it makes it so much worse.

He swallows his sadness at seeing the brothers together. Working side by side and in perfect sync. He misses Gilbert greatly. Sometimes he'll pause in his work and just stare out in the direction of Russia. Whether is be in his office going through pounds of paper work, or in the streets working on buildings. He can feel Gilbert sometimes. He can feel Gilbert in the presence of the people now in the East. It gives him only the smallest hint of happiness.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the Allies release his lands. He allows America to stay, a small base of sorts out of the way of his streets. Ludwig can feel something wrong, crawling over his skin. His thoughts are preoccupied when America mentions a new idea to get the world to cohabit, an all world alliance. They talk it out, and present it to the leaders at a later date. Ludwig forgets about the feeling of crawling on his skin.

* * *

Another year passes by and he wishes he brought up the feeling immediately. Gilbert hasn't come home. He should be home by now. Russia should have released him. Should be out of his lands. But Gilbert isn't home. He talks to his leaders. His heart drops at the information he receives. Russia is not releasing custody over the land. He is not going to release Gilbert. He crumples. He needs his brother back. It's been years since he's seen him, heard his laugh. He needs Gilbert.

He goes through the motions of life. Helping his people, fixing up his country, putting on a brave face. For Gilbert, is what he tells himself. For his people, he tells himself as well. For them all. He's in the middle of paperwork when the pain starts. It's dull at first. Then he can feel it pricking at his skin. He tears off his shirt and looks down at the scar over his heart. The line going straight down the middle and three other lines branching off, resembling the way his capital had been split. The center line is burning, growing wider, just by a little. He swallows. The burning doesn't stop for the whole day.

* * *

America rushes in. He has fire in his eyes. He grabs Ludwig by the arm and pulls him into a car. They drive for an hour. Ludwig can feel the anger of his people rising. He can feel the hatred bubbling within his own being. The car slows and he jumps out. His heart nearly stops at the sight in front of him.

A wall.

A wall guarded by Russian soldiers.

All the anger makes sense now. He grits his teeth and joins in the rioting people. He throws his fist against the wall just like the rest of them. Somewhere on the other side he can feel Gilbert in the people. He can feel their spitfire just like his. He yells out Gilbert's name. He screams it for the heavens to hear. Before, he had just been separated from Gilbert. A simple diplomatic measure. Now there stood a wall in his way. He lets the anger of his people fill him as he kicks the wall, takes a crowbar to the cement, fights against the police. He goes back everyday.

* * *

Ludwig has spent the last twenty years rebuilding his lands and keeping the moral of his people as high as he could. He spent those years being ridiculed by most of the Allies. He spent twenty years, thinking of Gilbert. Now he could take out all his rage, all his anger, all the feelings of his people out on a wall. A wall that should not have been constructed. A wall that should be torn down. A wall that is separating him from the only bit of family he has in this world where everyone around him can pass on.

He fights for his people. He fights for his rights to his own land. He fights for Gilbert. The world grows cold around him. America stands by his side, sending in food to the other side of the wall. Ludwig has trouble sometimes. Wondering if America is there to help him, or to fight Russia. He will take the care for as long as he can get. He watches as planes fly overhead, dropping food and clothing to the people on the other side. On Gilbert's side.

He bangs on the wall with the others, just like everyday before. Their anger is unwavering, despite the threat of gunmen above them. Many have tried to climb the wall, only to be pushed down, or shot. Ludwig went the hospital twice with a bullet wound. Nothing, he thinks to himself. Nothing is worse than the pain of the wall being up. As he lay in the hospital, his anger festers. His people are hurting. Gilbert's people are hurting. He needs to protect them. He can feel Gilbert then, making a mess on the other side. Another tear slips through Ludwig's defenses.

* * *

The riots die down. America and Russia are making a chess board of the world. He doesn't care. His leaders yell and fight over the developments. But he, as a person, does not care. He stands in front of the wall. His breath is fogged in the snow around him. The people near him are crying, or screaming, or silently glaring at the wall. He feels so much and so little. He's not sure of the pain he feels is his own, or his peoples. Then he feels Gilbert, he can feel his brother's anger and pain on the other side of the wall. He yells out. Screaming for Gilbert to come home. That he is trying to bring him back with everything he can give. He doesn't know if Gilbert can hear him. He has never heard a response back.

He yells more, not caring about the stares from the others. So many have yelled over the wall, with no response. It's a fruitless effort. He doesn't care. If there is a chance Gilbert can hear him, it's all the more worth it. He rests his head on the wall when his voice is hoarse. He can feel his brother on the other side, so close and yet so far. He grits his teeth. How much longer will Gilbert have to go through this pain? How much more can these people put him through? Ludwig bangs his fist on the wall. He fights off the police when they come for him.

* * *

The announcement is made, and for the first time in _years_ , Ludwig smiles. He drops to his knees in relief alone. It's been forty years since he's had the chance to see Gilbert. America helps him up and puts him in the car. The buzz in Ludwig's veins is growing. His people are rejoicing. His land can breathe again. He forgot how to speak when America's president told them to tear down the wall. He stands with his people, breathing heavily as the crane comes through. He smiles again as the wrecking ball breaks through the cement. The people run wild. They hack away at the wall, crowbars and buzz saws cutting away.

Forgetting manners, Ludwig runs forward. He hoists up his people so they can get up on the walls edge. They shout to those below. Then a piece of the wall falls. He stands back as more follow in it's path. The people of East Germany rush out, calling to loved ones and family long lost. He stands back as they pour into the West. He feels liberated.

He scans the darkness. He pushes past a few people, spinning wildly in circles. He can't miss Gilbert. He has to find him. There is no way, now after forty long years without him, would Ludwig let his brother slip past him. His breathing catches when he spots Russia near the edge of the wall. The Russian is scowling as he turns away from the wall back into a car waiting for him. Ludwig rushes forward.

He hears his name. Then he sees him. Gilbert is smiling, tears in his eyes. He runs forward and crashes into Ludwig, wrapping his arms and legs around his body. Ludwig can hear Gilbert's laugh in his ears. He wraps his arms protectively around his brother, his own laugh sneaking past his lips. Oh how he missed that laugh. How he missed that face now smiling down at him. Ludwig holds his brother tight, not wanting to let him go again. Their people around them are crying tears of joy. Ludwig feels complete once again.

They drive home in silence. Gilbert is asleep on his shoulder. He can't help but smile softly at his sleeping form. He's just so happy that Gilbert is back. That Gilbert is okay. His people are free. For the first time, in the longest time, he feels just as free. America and Russia are no longer at each other's throats. The world is in a calm, tired from all the war and threats. Ludwig couldn't be more at peace.

He carries Gilbert inside, his brother still exhausted from all that has happened in the past fifty years. Ludwig clenches his jaw tight. Gilbert hasn't stopped hurting for the past fifty years. He holds his brother just the slightest tighter as he enters Gilbert's room. That's when he notices the differences. He's carried Gilbert many times. He's lighter now, thinner. Ludwig gulps as he sets Gilbert on the bed. His brother immediately curls around a pillow. His skin is paler, if that's even possible. His clothes are too big for him. There are bags under his eyes. Ludwig sits on the edge of his bed. How much pain did Gilbert go through for him? How much pain did Russia put him through?

Ludwig doesn't find out about how much damages Gilbert has until he accidentally walks in on him dressing the next day. He heard a thump and immediately ran to Gilbert's room to check on him. Gilbert stood, barely, clinging to the bedpost to hold himself up. Ludwig rushed forward to hold him. Gilbert laughed, saying he's fine and can handle himself. Ludwig stops breathing at the bruises littering Gilbert's body. There are hand prints and rope burns and cuts. He forces Gilbert to sit down as he runs to get the first aid kit.

Gilbert complains and pouts and pushes him away as he tries to wrap his arm and clean his cuts. Ludwig doesn't let up. Gilbert needs to take care of his body now, more than ever. He pauses as he recognizes the scar running down over Gilbert's heart. Ludwig gulps. The vertical line is thicker than his, but a matching mark all the same. He finishes wrapping the wounds and help Gilbert get dressed. His brother is cackling, like nothing ever changed, as he eats breakfast. Ludwig smiles. He's missed Gilbert more than anything. He can still feel a pit of dread in his stomach. Right now he's just happy to have Gilbert back.

* * *

Again Ludwig berates himself for ignoring his bodily warnings. Oh why didn't he listen to himself? He should really learn to listen.

He woke up in the morning feeling awful. He felt like throwing up. He manages to get dressed and make breakfast though without a hitch. He calls to Gilbert. His brother has been staying with him. Ludwig doesn't want him to leave, worried about his health. It's been a few months, and while Gilbert insists he's fine, Ludwig doesn't believe him. Gilbert isn't the same. He's been acting weird, talking less, staring off into space, and his smirks don't reach where they should. Ludwig worries. Gilbert has been telling him how proud he is. How he's grown up a fine nation. While he does feel happy at the compliments, they feel so off putting.

He calls to Gilbert again. When he doesn't get a reply he huffs. He puts down the food plates and heads to Gilbert's room. Probably stayed up late talking to France, or Spain, or Hungary again. He knocks on the door. He huffs again at the lack of response. He opens the door, ready to lecture his brother about answering him. He pauses in the doorway. Gilbert is laying on the bed, not moving. Ludwig sighs and calls his name again. Gilbert doesn't stir.

He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room. He pushes at Gilbert's shoulder. He shakes him. Gilbert doesn't wake. Ludwig yells his name. No movement. Ludwig panics. He yells and cries out and shakes Gilbert's body. But he doesn't open his eyes. Ludwig's eyes widen in horror.

Gilbert isn't a nation anymore. Gilbert is no longer Prussia. Gilbert no longer has land to keep him alive. Ludwig sits on the bed and cradles Gilbert's body to him. No. No he could not lose Gilbert again. Not after all this time. He begs. He pleads. Don't take Gilbert away from him. There's a knock on the door. Ludwig ignores it. Gilbert's body is limp. Ludwig cries.

He let's the tears fall down as he holds Gilbert's head in his lap. He puts his head to his. The tears come down and splash against Gilbert's pale, cold, expressionless face. He cries through the knocking. How could he live now? It had been hell living without Gilbert near him for so long. Now it's being ripped away from him again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live without him. Ludwig gasps when he feels breath on his neck.

Gilbert smiles weakly at him. He whispers, so softly, that he heard Ludwig, that night on Christmas, when he said he would bring Gilbert home. His eyes roll back, and he goes limp once again. Ludwig can't breathe. No. Not again.

He jumps when the sound of splintering wood echoes through the house. He weakly raises his head when France and Spain appear in the doorway. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes once again. He leans his head back down to Gilbert's. He just got his missing side back. Gilbert had just come home. He didn't even have a year with him. How could the world be so cruel? Ludwig sobs, his body shaking.

France and Spain come closer, already tears in their eyes. Spain falls to the ground and grabs Gilbert's unmoving hand. He sobs into the limb. France stands beside him, silently letting his tears fall. Ludwig grips Gilbert's head to his chest. For so long he waited for Gilbert to come home. For so long he waited to hear his laugh once more. It feels like a sick joke on him. To have Gilbert back in his life, only to have him taken away. This time, for permanent.

Ludwig screams out. He's never felt this lost. Never felt this broken. At any other time, Gilbert would come to him, whispers words of encouragement, play his flute softly for him. Like he had done so many times before. Now. Now he won't ever have that again. Gilbert won't be his saving grace.

He clutches at Gilbert. He can't give this up. There has to be a way to keep him around. He whispers to Gilbert now, his voice cracking with every word. It doesn't matter if Gilbert can't hear him. France gasps and Spain's sobs stops momentarily as he speaks. He puts all possible conviction into his voice as he relinquishes the East side of his land. He says as strongly as possible that Gilbert is East Germany. His voice breaks as he says that he is the West and Gilbert is his other half. He knows it's a last ditch effort. That it probably won't work. But he has hope, and it's killing him. Anything, anything to bring Gilbert back once again.

The papers to make himself the West and Gilbert the East go through immediately. Gilbert doesn't wake.

* * *

Ludwig nurses his seventh beer of the night. Or is it eight? He's stopped counting. He's numb to the world going on around him. He goes through his paperwork like a zombie. His bosses lessened the work once they noticed his lack of attention. His home is dirty. Dishes in the sink, dust collecting on the shelves, clothes thrown about. He doesn't remember the last time he had a full meal.

It's been a month since Gilbert's funeral.

Ludwig takes another swig of beer. It does nothing. He throws the beer bottle against the wall. It shatters. He puts his head in his hands. He sighs. He doesn't know how to live right now. He doesn't know what to make of the world. Before, he had a purpose. Protect and help his people. He tries, he tries so hard to do what Gilbert had told him to do. _People leave, nations move on_. How is he supposed to move on? Everything he does is based of advice Gilbert had given him. How many times has he gotten frustrated with a bit of work and picked up the phone to call Gilbert only to remember that his brother wouldn't answer.

He stands up with another sigh. He peeks out the window. Snow is starting to fall again. He grabs his overcoat and laces up his boots. He walks slowly through the streets. People mill about, some say good evening. He manages a polite smile as best as possible. He tries to be happy, he does. His people are free and healthy. What more could a nation want? Ludwig sighs.

His feet carry him towards the cemetery. He's lost count of the times he's left his home just to end up at the gravestone. His feet crunch against the snow. His breath is making fog in front of him. He rubs his hands together to keep them warm. He stops first at the grave of Fritz, Gilbert's beloved general. It is a tourist spot now. There are a few potatoes on the grave in offering. Ludwig sighs again. He walks to his brother's grave now. Gilbert had been destroyed when the general died. He moved on though, smiling and bragging instead of tearing up. Oh how Ludwig wishes he could do the same for Gilbert.

But he can't. Gilbert had protected him, raised him. Ludwig had never been without Gilbert beside him until after the war. The war that had been all his fault, and yet somehow Gilbert got the worst of it. Ludwig tries not to hate himself for it. Gilbert had made the decision to go with Russia. Ludwig needed to stay with the majority of his people, take care of Germany. He still cringes at the memory of Gilbert leaving the first time. Why had he not said anything then? Showed his gratitude for Gilbert's existence sooner? He should have said so many times.

Ludwig wipes away a single tear at the memory of Gilbert's last few days with him. Gilbert had been odd, smiling instead of talking. Telling Ludwig how proud he was. Why didn't he notice sooner? Gilbert had known what would happen. Gilbert knew. Ludwig sucks back a sob. Gilbert knew everything it seemed. How to fight, how to have fun, how to do paperwork, how to make Ludwig feel like the world wouldn't fall apart. Ludwig swallows down the sadness. _Strong nations have their heads high_. So he raises his head high.

He stops walking immediately. His eyes narrow. Gilbert's grave is in his sight, and there is a person carelessly sitting on top of it. Ludwig grinds his teeth in anger. He walks forward again. He would try to be polite in asking them to buzz off. His feet crunch the snow underneath them. He is closer now, and he can see the snow settled in the person hair. They must have been there a while for their hair to be that white. Ludwig stops behind them, keeping his glare in check. They are wearing a blue military uniform. Ludwig thinks that a soldier would know better than to disregard a grave like that.

Ludwig's breathe leaves him when the person turns around to face him. He feels like he's been hit in the gut. He tries hard to keep himself in together as he recognizes Gilbert's face. He swallows hard. Then, with a smirk, that is entirely too Gilbert, the person speaks. Ludwig falls to his knees at the sound of Gilbert's voice. He stares wide eyed at what he assumes is a figment of his imagination. He's finally lost it. Gilbert turns back around and leans back on his hands in the snow. The smirk still on his face. Ludwig can't breathe. It's too much. It's too real. It's too Gilbert.

He feels a tear slip down his face. It hurts now. Why did his mind have to play such cruel tricks on him. Why couldn't he just give up. He buries his face in his hands. He feels arms wrap around him. Gilbert whispers words softly to him. How proud he is. How happy he is. How it feels to be alive again. How much it sucked dying and being reborn again. Ludwig starts to cry. Gilbert rubs small circles on his back to soothe him. It's too real.

Gilbert's skin is cold against his but his breath is warm against his neck. If this is his imagination, he might as well make the most of it. He wraps his arms around Gilbert's snow covered torso and holds him tight. He cries into the fabric as Gilbert's laugh echoes around him. It's too much. Gilbert continues to whisper words to him. Gentle encouragement and reassurances. Ludwig loses count of how many times Gilbert tells him it's real.

Ludwig's tears stop eventually. Gilbert is smiling at him now. His cheeks and nose are red. Snow is settling on his clothes. His fingers are freezing. Ludwig takes off his gloves and hands them to him. Gilbert's laugh is loud at the gesture. He takes the clothing and slips them on. He stands up, groaning as he does. He holds out his hand. Ludwig stares at it for a moment. He takes it and lets Gilbert pull him up. Gilbert starts talking about his journey.

His brother recalls how it felt to die. A simple passing of the breathe and then nothing. He went to heaven for a while. He tells Ludwig that their grandpa is pretty proud. It makes Ludwig sniffle again, just a little this time. Gilbert tells how it felt to have his body change, and mold to the new land that Ludwig had given up to be his. He tells how odd it felt to wake up again, cold and on the ground of his grave, like he had just been asleep the whole time. He flashes Ludwig a wide smirk. Ludwig simply lets out a breath of relief that he's not dreaming.

He had wanted so badly for Gilbert to come back. He wanted so badly for his brother and his mentor and his friend to come back to him. Ludwig smiles. The hand in his feels real. Gilbert feels real. He listens to Gilbert ramble on. This isn't a figment of his imagination. Ludwig pulls Gilbert back into a hug. His brother laughs loudly and hugs him back. _You must have hope_. Gilbert's words come back to him. He releases his hold and Gilbert returns to pulling him along. There is a deep seated happiness now making it's way through Ludwig.

There would never be a day when Ludwig regrets bringing Gilbert back to him.

* * *

 **AN:** Not too happy with the ending but, it'll do. Uhm.. sorry? Hope you enjoyed it, though enjoy might be the wrong word..

 **Disclaimer:** Hetalia ain't no belong me.


End file.
